Wasted Effort
by wbss21
Summary: Batman's faced with a problem he can't solve, and he's forced to turn to the one person he hoped he'd never have to for help.


**An Effort Wasted:**

**By: Nicole Reis**

"Open it."

The guard's eyes shot wide, the coffee he'd been drinking nearly spewing from his mouth.

It was him. _Him! _Jesus, he'd thought the guy was just an urban legend. But there he was, right in front of him, a hulking beast of a man.

The guard, whose name was Conner, stumbled and starred.

"I-I'm sorry?" He said.

"The door. Open it." The Batman ordered once more.

"Uh… Y-yes sir." Conner fumbled with the keys on his belt loop, his hands shaking, struggling to find the key hole.

When at last he'd managed to get the door open, it pulled wide with a metal creek and the caped man brushed past him.

"Leave us." He said, again in that gruff, deep voice which conjured a feeling of menace.

Conner thought working in a place like this, he'd seen all there was to see of the surreal, but this Batman sure seemed up there with the rest of it.

"Are you s-sure sir? I mean, I can…"

"Leave."

"_This dudes not kidding_." Conner thought, and he didn't need to be told again as he pulled the door shut, resuming his post outside.

Inside was dark, save for the light filtering through from the barred window, and the room was barren of anything, other then an uncomfortable looking cot in the far, right hand corner, bolted to the wall, and that cot's occupant, sitting up straight, his back pressed to the corner, his legs brought up and crossed in an Indian style, his palms face down on the mattress.

Batman stepped towards him.

"We need to talk."

The Joker's eyes flashed in the dark and the vigilante could see his pale face pull to a grin.

"_Just_ to talk, or is it something more? Feeling neglected, perhaps? You must be getting lonely, what with my being here so long now. No one to play with. I promise to escape soon, and we can continue."

Batman ignored him.

"I need your help."

The Joker's brows shot up and his eyes went wide, his face taking on an exaggerated expression of surprise.

"Ah, so, all those opportunities missed, when you had your chance to kill me and didn't, at last have bore you fruit. Patience, they say, is a virtue Batman. But how can I, the lowly and dastardly Joker, possibly be of assistance to you, the world's _greatest_ detective? Other then our usual therapeutic sessions, you know, the ones in which I attempt to inject a sense of humor in to your miserably drear, depressive demeanor, I mean. Perhaps, finally, you've encountered an individual who so aggravates you that you've concluded to compromise your devotion to not killing? And you've come to commission the hit? Oh, but I would be so gravely disappointed if someone else were to drive you to it before I."

"You know about the killings?" Batman asked pointedly.

"Oh Batman, you should by now be aware of my being privy to all the city's activities."

"Then you should also know that the targets are falling victim to poisoning."

"Of this I am cognizant, yes."

"I'm having trouble finding a cure." Batman said quickly, begrudgingly.

At this The Joker's eyes narrowed and he leaned further back, supporting his weight on his hands.

He starred at the vigilante.

"I need your help in developing the antidote."

The Joker waved a hand dismissively.

"Surely one of Gotham's numerous, world renowned scientific minds can accomplish the task for you?" He offered.

"They've tried. And they've failed. It's beyond them… It's beyond me. It's been worked on for months and nobodies come even close."

"What, then, makes you so certain of my success?"

Batman eyed him for a long moment.

"…Your… _work_ in the fields of chemical and genetic engineering… It's been called brilliant… by some."

At this The Joker smiled.

"You flatter me darling."

Batman looked disgusted.

"Thousands may die if you don't help."

"My dear, I hope you've not deluded yourself in to believing that I've suddenly been stricken with a…a… what's that word?" He waved a hand. "Oh! A conscience! Yes. I sincerely hope not… So tell me, tall, dark and if I could see your face, probably handsome, _why_ should I assist you?"

Batman came nearer, threateningly.

"Surely you're not resorting to such tired tactics, are you? You must know by now the bullying approach never works with someone such as my self."

Batman starred coldly down at the madman.

"You wouldn't want someone upstaging you at your own game, would you Joker?"

"Oh, you know me too well my sweet. No… I can't say I relish the prospect. But then, what's to prevent me from simply striking out on my own and disposing of the fiend myself? It wouldn't be the first time I've done so, and obviously you _know _of that I am capable."

Batman moved quickly forward and took his arch nemesis by the collar.

"I don't have time for your games Joker! People are _dying_!"

"Please Batsy-dearest…" The Joker gripped the dark knight's wrists. "From where I sit, it's you who are disadvantaged. I could very well refuse, and once I've set my mind to a thing, there is no convincing me otherwise. Oh I suppose you could ravage me to a bloody pulp, as is your custom to do, but it would be of no use to your campaign, you must know that. You even could threaten to stamp out my life, and still, it would not further progress your endeavor."

Batman lifted The Joker in to the air and slammed his back against the concrete wall of the cell, holding him there.

"You sure about that?" He ground his teeth, pressing a forearm to the maniac's throat.

The Joker smiled.

"Certain." He whispered, his wind pipe restricted. "As enticing the prospect is of you forever being in my debt, sweet pea, you're going to have to offer up something more if you wish to solicit my services."

Batman's hold loosened and his face relaxed as he lowered The Joker to his feet.

The bastard was right.

"What do you want?" He asked, hesitation lacing his voice.

The Joker smoothed his hands down his shirt, looking over the outfit as though dressed in one of his Italian suits.

"Well, that's better." He answered finally, looking his foe directly in the eye.

"I want you to take me out of here and bring me to _your_ hideout. After all, you've seen all of mine, though granted, I often change locals… I'll conduct my research there. I'll even allow you to blindfold me for the journey. That way I remain blissfully ignorant to your dwellings whereabouts."

"No." Batman answered straight off, dead set determination in his voice.

The Joker shrugged and turned away.

"Very well, old friend. Have it your way. No deal though. Good luck to all of you in finding that cure."

The room fell silent.

"It's beyond my authorization to take you out of here." Batman finally spoke.

The Joker turned to face him.

"And when have you _ever_ required _authorization_ to conduct business Batman?" The Joker questioned him with the first hint of disgust in his voice that evening. "You and I both know how absurdly simple a task it would be for you to smuggle me out of here."

Batman looked away. This was wrong. Not only would he be violating the law in a way more grotesque then ever he had done before, but he would be endangering the lives of Gotham's citizens by willingly taking the worse mass murderer he had ever encountered out of confinement. Not only their lives, but his as well, and Alfred's. Compromising his identity even. But if he didn't, he knew The Joker would hold true to his promise of withholding his aid. Even if he were to beat him half to death, or threaten his life and mean it, The Joker was mad enough not to falter on his decision. And if that happened, thousands could perish, and that would be the far greater price to pay. Some psychopath out there had either developed or acquired a bio-terrorist weapon, and they were using it as such. Already he, or she, had released it upon small crowds in town markets and suburban areas. It was only a matter of time before they grew bold enough to unleash it upon mass gatherings, ball games, concerts, even mid-town, in Gotham's central square.

The Joker stood watching as Batman mulled the request over. He knew he had him.

"Alright." The vigilante at last spoke. "But we do this _my_ way. You will do _exactly_ as I tell you. No games, no tricks. If you attempt to escape, I will bring you straight back to Arkham. Is that understood?"

The Joker grinned like a child receiving at gift at Christmas.

"Yes Daddy. Implicitly!" He answered with glee.

Batman sighed. He felt strongly he was going to regret this. But he knew also he had no choice.

"Hold your hands out and together." He instructed.

"Oh, are you going to cuff me?!" The Joker asked. "You know it won't do any go…"

"Just do it!" Batman snapped, cutting him off. He wasn't willing to play any games.

The Joker rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you insist." He said, holding his hands out limply and letting Batman snap a thick set of metal manacles over his thin wrists.

"Now stay behind me. Stay _directly_ behind me and let me handle the guards."

The Joker remained quiet, following closely behind. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from chuckling with excitement.

"_Going home with Batsy. Now this is one for the books_!" He thought to himself.

"Guard." Batman called out through the bars.

Conner appeared suddenly, looking as nervous as before.

"Y-yes sir, Mr. Batman Sir?"

"I'm ready."

"Yes sir." Conner's voice shook as he once again fumbled for the keys.

The Joker bit his lip harder still. The prospect of escaping by such means was too rich! It tickled his fancy to no end.

As soon as the door had unlatched and opened, Batman was upon the unsuspecting guard, clamping a hand over his mouth and turning him so that his back was against his chest, from there proceeding to incapacitate him silently. Conner was on the ground within seconds, unconscious, having made not a sound.

"Impressive." The Joker whispered.

"Quiet." Batman ordered. "Stay close and don't let yourself be seen."

"Oh, but it lacks that air of dared adventure when one makes his leave with such subtlety." The Joker complained. "You agree, do you not?"

Batman turned to face him, looking him forward in the eye.

"Do as I say Joker, or the entire deal is off."

The Joker grinned sheepishly back.

"Yes Sir, Mr. Batman Sir." He chuckled, mocking the now disposed of guard.

Batman resisted the urge to slap the lunatic across the face, turning once more.

"Follow closely."

The rest of the way was made smoothly through the asylum. The Joker noted what trust the Arkham staff regarded Batman with, letting him walk right to them without hesitation, though intimidated they were, he could see that. Subsequently, he was able to put his hands on them before they could even begin to suspect anything as unusual, and so their exit was simple, efficient, achieved with relative ease.

"_Boring_." The Joker thought. "_But if it gets the job done_…"

Once outside, on the asylum grounds, Batman latched a hand tight around The Joker's forearm.

"This way." He grunted.

"Not so rough darling. I bruise like a ripened peach."

Batman remained silent, dragging The Joker towards where he had parked his car.

"Ohhh, do we get to ride in the Bat-Mo-Bile?!" He giggled.

Batman had, at that point already, been taken aback by The Joker _not_ attempting to escape He had zero trust in the maniac and had been wound to pounce at the slightest indication of his going off plan. That hadn't happened, and relief was the only word the vigilante could find to describe the feeling.

It had begun to rain when at last they reached the vehicle and The Joker had begun to complain bitterly over his hair getting wet.

"Shut up and get in." Batman hissed.

"Touchy, hmmm?" The Joker taunted, seating himself in to the passenger's side.

Batman proceeded to then strap him tightly in, with numerous, overlapping straps, made of something stronger then what your standard motor vehicle seatbelt consisted of.

"Is all this really necessary?" The Joker asked as the belts pulled tighter against him.

"Yes." Batman answered flatly.

The Joker sighed.

"No fun at all." He mumbled.

Batman continued to work the straps, ignoring the remark, checking each over to make sure they were secure.

"I didn't know you cared so much Doll face. But I'm certain you needn't worry so, you are, after all, a fine driver. Better then I, most assuredly."

Batman stepped back, examining what he'd done. The Joker could scarcely move a fraction of a centimeter forward. He was tied down good and when Batman determined the result satisfactory, he procured a long piece of black cloth from out his belt.

"Comes prepared for any occasion." The Joker giggled, watching the vigilante intently.

"I'm putting this over your eyes. You said you were okay with that."

"I'm okay with anything you do sweet-tart." The Joker wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

Batman felt physically ill, folding the cloth over double before leaning down and wrapping the thing around the madman's head, over his eyes, and tying it to a tight knot behind.

The Joker continued to talk while Batman moved to his side.

"Awful dark in here. I'm afraid I may catch nightmares Bats. Hold my hand, make me feel secure?"

"Shut up."

The engine came on with a soft purr.

"Ohh, mechanical engineering at its finest. Where'd you get this puppy made anyhow Batsy? I've always wanted to ask. Surely the underpinnings are European in design."

The cabin was silent.

The Joker breathed in sharply.

"Long trip then…"

……………

"It is _really_ called the batmobile? I've always thought that was so corny."

……………

"Can we turn on the radio?"

"_Joker_!" Batman erupted suddenly. "_Quiet_!"

The Joker breathed out, letting the air vibrate against his lips.

"Alright Ms. Debbie Downer. Only trying to add a little life to this otherwise drab party. Sheesh!"

Batman didn't respond. They next few miles were made in silence, the vigilante looking over at his arch nemesis every few seconds, making sure he was still safely fastened and hadn't managed to somehow escape his restraints.

The journey to Wayne manor was a long one, clear on the other side of town, on the outskirts of the city. Batman hoped, from the duration of the ride, that The Joker wouldn't glean the location.

He worried how he was going to explain this to Alfred. He would have to send word to him, before they arrived, of what was going on. He couldn't allow The Joker to become aware of his life-long friend's presence, and so he shot off a silent alert to the faithful helper, explaining the details. A response came almost instantly, Alfred making clear his discomfort with the course of action, attempting to dissuade his employer.

Batman wrote nothing in reply other then, "We're coming. Make yourself scarce."

It would be nearly another half hour before they arrived, and Batman grew increasingly more unsure if he had made the right decision. The Joker had begun humming some ridiculously happy tune about ten miles back and he hadn't ceased to do so until they arrived at their destination and he heard the entrance to the cave close behind them.

"Oh, have we arrived?" He asked merrily.

"Yes." Batman answered.

The Joker gasped dramatically.

"Goody, goody!"

The car came to a heavy halt and the sound of the engine shutting down was reminiscent to that of a power plant doing the same.

"Don't move. Don't even _try_ to move. You can't get out of those restraints." Batman ordered sternly.

"Says you."

"What?!"

"Nothing."

……..

"I'll be right back.

"Yes dear."

"_Don't_ move."

"_Alright!_ Sheesh!"

Batman locked down the top of the vehicle securely before leaving it, moving swiftly across the cave, towards the stair case leading to the manor. He shook his head at how absolutely obnoxious The Joker could be. The way he would at times act so contradicted what Batman knew him to be capable of. Like a spoiled child. And at other times, he would act every bit of the menacing, mean-spirited madman he was, frighteningly intelligent, perceptive and unpredictable, with an unmatched capacity for cruelty.

As he neared the top of the flight, he saw Alfred awaiting him in the entry way.

"Sir?" He asked in that sophisticated, upper crust accent.

"He's here." Batman replied.

Alfred's brow creased in concern.

"I trust, Sir, that he is properly contained then?"

"Of course Alfred."

"May I ask _where_, Sir?"

"In the car. Even _he _can't get out from there."

"Yes, well, one would most certainly hope Sir."

The butler eyed him with a questioning glance.

"We don't have much time Alfred. You know the recent murders I've been working on?"

"Of course. Your time has been monopolized in trying to find a cure. The problem has been… vexing for you Sir."

"That's why he's here." Batman made his point direct.

Alfred's eyes went wide.

"Surely you don't believe _him _capable of solving this predicament Sir?!"

"His grasp of chemical and genetic engineering is… exceptional Alfred."

"Pish posh. Certainly no keener then your own!?"

"Yes Alfred! His comprehension in these fields has widely been regarded as that of a genius and… as much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree. It's not a compliment… it just is."

Alfred sighed.

"Very well Sir. If I can be of any assistance…"

"He can't know you're here Alfred. Stay up here and if I need you, I'll contact you. But under no circumstances do you come down. I'll come to you."

"I assume then, Sir, I will be relegated to the manor until our maniacal friend has… accomplished his assigned task?"

Batman tipped his head in acknowledgement before moving away.

"I have to go back down." He said.

Alfred watched and shook his head in dismay as he watched his employer descend the steps.

"I sometimes wonder if he's as mad as the criminals he encounters." He mumbled to himself, turning away.

"What took you?!" The Joker asked impatiently the instant the hood of the car pulled back. "I was beginning to have flashbacks to solitary." And he then giggled madly.

Batman leaned forward, untying the blindfold. The Joker blinked rapidly at its removal and then began to look about him, an expression of awe upon his face.

"Sooooooooooo, _this_ is your humble abode?!" He began excitedly. "Well, humble perhaps is a term ineffectual in describing such a place."

Batman dismissed his continual chatter and began to un-strap him from the seat. As he worked, The Joker followed his movement with his eyes, and Batman noticed, as he always did when handling The Joker while either restrained or incapacitated, how fragile the madman seemed. It was a jarring contrast when compared to how he came across otherwise, when unrestricted, in action. The sheerness of his will and the boundless energy he possessed seemed always to give him a strength and power contradictory to what his frame suggested. It was, as so many things with The Joker were, surreal.

"Get out."

The Joker smiled at him and stood, leaping from the vehicle and landing gracefully on his feet.

"Just like you Bats." He said. "Only no hands!" And he held up his cuffed wrists, dangling the chain linking the manacles.

"Your work station is over here." Batman said, grabbing The Joker roughly by the arm and dragging him towards the caves main research area. "You'll find all the tools and research materials you'll need. I want you to work as quickly and effectively as possible."

"Ohh, demanding, aren't we? Do you drill Robin this hard?"

At this Batman stopped, turning suddenly to face The Joker, leaning in close to his face.

"Mention Robin again, and I'll pound you to dust." He said lowly, his teeth grinding.

The Joker leaned back, his brow creasing.

"Such strong language!" He exclaimed. "I only was supplying idol chatter, you know, lightening the atmosphere. It's as dreary in here as your personality."

Batman said nothing.

"Oh! I like that!" The Joker said suddenly. He was looking at the giant joker card which sat well displayed along the caves far left wall. "Kept a memento I see. I remember that exploit well. Almost had you that time too, darling! But then, I almost _always_ have you, don't I?"

"_Just ignore him Bruce. Pay no attention_."

"Sit." Batman ordered.

The Joker shrugged, taking a seat on the padded stool.

"I'm going to remove the cuffs. I will be sitting over there." He pointed to a chair not ten feet away. "I will be watching you. If you try _anything_, I will put you down, do you follow me Joker?"

"Anything as in, if I breath wrong, I'll be eating a knuckle sandwich?"

"Precisely."

"What if I sneeze wrong?"

Batman sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes, taking a key from his belt and undoing the manacles.

"The research I've so far conducted is in that file." He pointed to a thick, manila envelope which sat on the desk. "There's a sample of the poison in that vile. From what I've gathered, it's a neurotoxin of some sort."

"Sounds like a compound created after my own heart." The Joker laughed.

"Just get to work. If you need anything, ask me. Don't move to get it, don't go looking for it. Just ask."

"Is _everything _in your life dictated by such stringent rules?"

"To work Joker." Batman said again, more forcefully, before moving to take his seat.

The Joker worked tirelessly it seemed, rarely looking up from what he was doing, rarely moving to stretch or adjust his position. Every now and then he would look at Batman and ask for something; another beaker, more paper, water, things of that nature. He didn't eat and he didn't sleep. Batman was taken aback by how alert and aware he was after ten hours of non-stop labor. The vigilante himself had had to get up and stretch and walk about, and he was more then used to sitting in one spot for prolonged periods and keeping long hours conducting research. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Over his many years battling The Joker, he'd become intimate with just how exhaustive it could be trying to keep pace with him. It was as though he never rested, never ceased. Upon each escape from Arkham, the madman had put in to effect one elaborate scheme after another, never failing to provide any number of clues and hints as to his whereabouts or indicating his next move. He loved for Batman to play that game and he always was coming up with newer and more intricate ways to go about it.

Batman was further taken aback by the cordiality with which The Joker regarded him whenever asking for materials. He was downright friendly and even polite. When he acted this way, Batman found it difficult to reconcile the man with the cold-blooded killer he knew him to be. He figured it was that charm and charisma which had ensnared victims such as Harleen Quinzel, and others less prominent who had been wooed in to the madman's world.

After several hours of watching The Joker crouched over the work station, pouring various liquids from one vile to another, writing furious notes and sitting with his head rested against his palm, tapping the pen he held in the other, just thinking, Batman began to wonder how much longer he could keep on without something to sustain him.

"Do you need anything to eat or drink?" He asked at last.

At this The Joker looked up, his eyes wide and shining.

"Why doll-face, how sweet of you to ask! But no, I'm just peachy as is."

It would be just three hours later when The Joker had thrown his pen down and stretched his arms over his head.

"All done." He spoke.

"What do you mean 'all done'?" Batman asked.

The Joker starred at him as though the question were absurd.

"I mean all done. Finished. I've discovered your cure." He said.

Batman looked incredulous.

"Really?" He said, disbelief in his voice.

The Joker rolled his eyes.

"Of course silly. That's what you brought me here for. Do you not recall?"

"I just find it hard to believe that after only thirteen hours, you could accomplish what the best scientific minds in Gotham could not over several months."

The Joker threw up his hands.

"You said yourself that I could achieve it. That is, after all, why first you came to me. Do you have faith in my abilities no longer?"

Batman just starred at him, coldly.

"Test it then!" The Joker sounded angry for the first time since last evening. Wounded pride, no doubt, Batman thought.

"I plan on it." The vigilante said, standing.

The Joker leaned back.

"It's in that vile there." The Joker waved a dismissive hand towards the concoction.

Batman took it up, along with a sample of the poison and proceeded to assay it, viewing the results under a microscope.

The Joker watched him with purposeful eyes. He knew it would work and was eager to see the pompous fool's reaction when it did.

After many minutes of Batman hunched over the microscope, starring in to it, adjusting the knobs at the contraptions sides, he stood upright, starring ahead for a moment before turning to The Joker and viewing him with intense eyes.

"… It works." He said finally.

The Joker's face broke in to a massive grin.

"Of course it does." He answered.

Batman said nothing for the next, several seconds.

"How did you do it?" He questioned at last.

"It's all there." The Joker motioned towards a pile of papers on the desk. "You'll find how to produce the anti-toxin in those pages."

Batman eyed the stack for a moment before looking back to The Joker.

"How do I know you've written down the correct formula and haven't supplied some harmful concoction in its place?"

The Joker chuckled.

"And risk the sullying of my reputation? Now darling, you know I never would do so foolish a thing."

Batman looked him hard in the eye. He knew he was telling the truth. The Joker would never allow for anyone to take the credit for something he had accomplished, and providing a poison in place of a vaccine would open the door for just that.

"… Thank you." He said after some hesitation, and the words sounded utterly bizarre being delivered to the madman.

"Well now I suppose we can call it even-stevens, aye Batsy? You saved me from the electric chair; I saved you from the mortifying terror of failure." The Joker smiled only faintly.

The room went silent for nearly half a minute before Batman again spoke.

"Why Joker? Why, when you're so gifted, do you use those gifts only to kill and maim? Why waste such talents when you could use them towards bettering the world?"

The Joker broke suddenly in to uproarious laughter.

"Oh Batman, you truly do slay me." He managed after cackling uncontrollably, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Batman just starred at him.

After continuing to giggle to him self manically for what seemed several minutes, The Joker at last looked Batman sternly in the face, any hint of a smile having disappeared.

"Because my dear, the world is a rotten and vile place. A place in which suffering is a dictum of life. I am an artist, not a scientist. My goal then is to reflect life accurately, not attempt in vain to change or control it. To prolong life only to arrive at the same end always is an effort wasted. To instead relate the absurdity of that predicament and make clear the great joke of it all, that at least is honest. The only logical reaction to being laughed at dear, is to laugh back..."

They eyed at each in silence for a long moment.

"Any reality in which someone like myself can exist Batman, that is not a reality worth saving."

The vigilante starred at him, confused.

"What?"

And without warning, The Joker leapt forward, snatching up a glass beaker from the table and swinging the thing with force at Batman.

The vigilante fell back, avoiding the object by centimeters, then bringing his fist in to an uppercut, connecting directly with The Joker's jaw, knocking him to the ground.

Almost instantly the maniac leapt to his feet and, still holding the glass container, smashed the thing on the table, creating a jagged edged weapon and swinging again violently at the dark knight.

Batman fell to the side, sweeping The Joker's feet while he did so, brining him hard to his back, and before the madman could again move to get up, Batman fell upon him, pinning his arms above his head, squeezing his wrist tight to make him release the object.

The Joker struggled to break free of Batman's grip, pushing his arms upward and attempting to jam his knee forward, but Batman held him tight, leaning his entire body weight over the maniac.

"_Enough_!" Batman hissed before quickly turning The Joker on to his stomach and twisting his arm behind his back, near to the point of breaking. "You're going back to Arkham!"

The Joker began to laugh then.

"Only to arrive, my sweet, at the same end, always." He answered, chuckling. "An effort wasted indeed."

The night following his return to Arkham, The Joker again escaped, this time on his own and the morning thereafter, the body of a middle aged male was found lying across the steps of Gotham City Police Headquarters', dead, a gruesome rictus grin spread over his face. A note had been attached to the man's forehead, and it read:

"Dear Batsy, it sure was fun seeing your pad the other night. Don't worry, I'll tell everyone it was my idea. Oh! By the way, you no longer need concern yourself with our mystery "chemist". He caught wind of my displeasure over him stealing my shtick, and as you can see, he's had a change of heart! Be seeing you around!

Love

J"


End file.
